#nurse Engel

[restinsodaroni]

I had an art trade with @thedenofravenpuff !!

My half was drawing their lovely medical Staff Bot: Nurse Engel!! She was very fun to draw and I loved drawing her rollerblading with a smile on her face! (Which she drew herself! ) Happily off to help assist people in need of medical attention! 💫 thanks so much for trading art with me thedenofravenpuff!! It was fun!

[thedenofravenpuff]

Have some more bots on your dash, using @restinsodaroni's Bunni Bot to interact with my Nurse Engel for this silly meme in honour of pride.

Enjoy! >w<

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[skybrushus]

Status update. I am no feeling creaky or achy all the time, and I never ran a fever. My sinus are still stopped up most of the time, and I run out of energy really quickly, but this is way better than the first time I had Covid.

[blu-nurse-needs-sleep]

"Oh Engel, if you're so upset you always have to find Spy for check-ups, why doesn't someone else do it?" Because no one else on the fucking team can smell him!! Plenty of other can break down his door like I do to find him, but only I can smell him! It doesn't matter if he's fucking invisible! I can still smell those fucking cigarettes and his stupid fucking French cologne!! His fucking smell makes me nauseous with how fucking strong it is!!!

[tf2-nurse-is-dreaming]

Nurse someone just turned Simon into a fucking child

... Okay? What am I supposed to do about that?

[konigofmyheart]

When you’re sick…

könig becomes a five star bedside nurse!

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

you need tissues? "here, liebling, got these with lotion so they don't irritate that cute nose of yours" as he's oh so delicately blotting at your runny eyes + nose. he tosses them in the bin he placed next to the bed so you don't have to get up so often.

you're throwing up? "there, there, hase, get it all out. do what you need to do. i got you." as he's soothingly rubbing your back while smoothing back your hair. he brings a cup of water to your mouth, helping you rinse out the taste and wipes your chin gently.

you're hungry? "that's great, engel! what do you want to eat? need me to pick something up or make something? whatever you want, you'll have." for every bite you eat, you earn a warm, sweet kiss to the forehead. (if it was up to him he'd kiss you right on the mouth but you don't want him to get sick as well)

there's no one more stubborn in the whole universe than he is about you taking your meds. "please, baby, for me?" of course you get more forehead kisses as a reward. what can you say, he drives a hard bargain.

and when you just need him? trust, he's there. holding you snuggly in his warm arms, staving off your shivers, cooing sweet nothings at you when you wake up between deep sleeps, begging you to “drink some more water so you'll get better quicker, schätzchen.”

he’ll do anything for you <3

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

liebling: darling

hase: bunny

engel: angel

schätzchen: baby

[the-silly-pyromaniac]

Uhh, firecracker, maybe you should ask someone for help to bake all those sweets for your yea party, ja? I mean, you don't want to go to a tea party covered in flour and sugar, right?

-@blu-nurse-needs-sleep

Uhh… yeah.. -Pyro turns to face Engel, flower covering part of their mask- I may have gotten carried away with.. the amount- and spilled some-

[the-blu-medic]

[Engel takes a few moments, pacing a bit and mumbling to himself. It pauses in front of the door to the infirmary before hesitantly knocking] Hallo? Medic? Are you in there..?

@blu-nurse-needs-sleep

“Ah, Engel, Hallo, velcome. How may I help you?”

The doctor smiles, a gentle almost unnoticeable smile

[lunarw0rks]

hi! i have a request with ghost or könig, where one of readers parents die, and they start freaking out, crying, panic attack and all. and one of them is there for them through it? if it's not too much, thank u sm and love ur writing!

Summary: After losing someone close, your roommate, König is your support system.

Warning(s): panic attacks, grief, parental death, hurt/comfort, roommate!König, GN!Reader, no use of y/n

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: My first König work :) [mein Engel = my angel] I hope you don't mind, I chose reader's mother to be the one who passed.

꒦꒷ MAIN MASTERLIST ꒷꒦ KÖNIG MASTERLIST // have a request? ⋆ ⚘ 🕊 ˚✧ ₊˚ʚ ao3 ver.

Saying Goodbye // Drabble

It was supposed to be an average, mundane day.

Eight hours at work, then stumbling into your apartment with sore muscles and a desire to relax until it all repeats again tomorrow. It was hard enough making it from the door to the couch, especially when barely able to keep your eyes open.

When you did, your eyes fluttered shut nearly instantly. Finally, you were getting some much needed sleep until—

You groaned loudly, palming around the sofa for your phone ringing at full blast. Inside, you cursed yourself for forgetting to silence it, and now you were debating on answering the call. An unrecognizable number, probably spam. The last thing you needed was another problem, another hitch in your relaxation.

The gut feeling you had was unmistakable; you should take the call, something was wrong.

With a hesitant thumb, you pressed the accept button and raised the phone to your ear. You’re wide awake now, you might as well get off the couch and pace while the scammer chews your ear off.

At least, that’s what you wanted to believe at first. It wasn’t a scammer; it was a nurse.

She asks your name, says they got your number from your mother’s phone. That instinctual feeling you had was proven true now—in the worst way possible. Though the nurse was hesitant to get the words out, as if the news hurt her more than you, your brain was scrambling with every possible bad scenario.

A car accident, a heart attack, perhaps even a mistake on the hospital’s end. The logistics didn’t matter, how she got your number, knew your name. It couldn’t be your mother, it had to be a mistake, right?

“I don’t understand.” You wavered, finding any excuse to dismiss her words—if you could call them that, they overlapped and mixed together with the haze in your mind.

“I’m so sorry for your loss.” Her voice is strictly professional, but to imagine her on the other end, she’s cringing at giving news like this over the phone, probably more than once today.

“You can come down and claim her belongings anytime. The administrator will help you with the arrangements… Do you have anyone—”

You terminated the call before she could continue, phone dropping to the floor below you. How could this happen? Why you, today of all days?

Tears were blinding you, coating your vision in a misty gloss. Next, it was your knees buckling beneath you when the dizziness was too much. Third, it was your inability to catch your breath; heaving and gasping as the sobs became too much for your body to handle. Above all, it was the thoughts and memories of your mother, how this could’ve happened so suddenly.

You hadn’t heard the door opening behind you, your fatigued roommate coming up behind you with concern. His large hands hovered over your back a few seconds, before he gently placed them to get your attention.

“What happened, mein Engel?” He asked softly, eyes wide with concern.

In all the months you’d lived together, conversations were quick but respectful; many days, your schedules would overlap, resulting in rarely seeing one another, or sleeping when you were home at the same time. But that didn’t matter to König, he couldn’t help but involve himself now.

“My mom…” Your weak voice finally spoke, tears streaming from your eyes down to the neckline of your shirt.

His observant eyes flicked over to the scene before him; you, distraught and struggling to breath, your cell phone dropped next to you.

Calling family members of the deceased, informing them of the horrible news, it’s something he’d done before for his job. It never gets easier, but he’d never seen the grieving person on the other side, often it ends with the call ending mid-sentence, just like you had done.

Now, he was face to face with it, and it was personal.

König’s brows furrowed empathetically as he listened to your cries, each one cracking his tough and intimidating exterior. He felt he was awful at comfort, only doing what came naturally to him—which wasn’t verbal.

Instead, it was physical comfort; a perk of his abnormal size.

He used one of his hands to push your head into his chest, while the other remained tightly wrapped around you. You could kick and scream, pound against his chest, get it all out of your system, and he remains still, allowing you to mourn in any way you have to.

He lifted you both up, letting you stand there and grieve against him. König’s eyes shut as he listened to your roars of sorrow, yearning for the parent you would never get back.

This went on for a few minutes, the room silent except for the sounds of your cries against his chest.

His strong arms kept you upright with ease, even though you were visibly trembling. “It will be okay, I promise… I promise…” His Austrian accent was soothing and gentle, a stark contrast to the way he looked.

You lifted your head, eyes bloodshot and quivering open and closed. You weren’t to the point of clarity yet, but the initial violent shock of the news had begun to fizzle; your mother was alone right now, in a hospital bed waiting for you. “I need to go see her, König. She’s all by herself.”

Your shaky hands found the entry table, reaching for your keys, but his hand gripped your arm before your fingers touched the cold metal.

With a shake of his head, he drops his hand. “I’ll drive you, okay?”

—

The city passes as a cynical blur; bars and restaurants packed with partying patrons, neighborhoods with playing children and family get togethers. Then, you, still distraught and with a tightening chest. Each street, each turn, each street sign pointing in the direction of the nearest hospital.

Ten miles; five miles; one mile; then, the bright red sign displaying Emergency illuminated the lot and König’s car.

He pulls into the closest visitor’s space, though most are already occupied. You pull the handle and step out, but the door remains open as you watch the bustle of the emergency room through the large windows.

You meet his blue eyes again, a black surgical mask concealing his true identity. “Will you come in with me?” It’s more of a despairing plea than an honest question.

He kills the engine and removes his hand from the wheel, giving a wary nod. In the face of a panic attack, he’s there for you in an instant. But by your side as you say goodbye? He began to wonder if he was the one you really wanted as moral support.

Your shoes scrape against the pavement, as if your feet are just as hesitant to face the situation.

The fluorescent lights overhead cast an unforgiving glare on the sterile white walls, reflecting the urgency of the environment. The constant hum of medical equipment and the beeping of monitors merge into a symphony of urgency, while the faint scent of bleach hangs in the air.

Nurses and doctors dart from one patient to another, their faces tense with determination, occupied with those in need of more attention than you, here to claim a body, for lack of better words.

The desk in the entrance is just as chaotic; the corded phones going off with an endless stream of calls, papers and clipboards stacked atop the other, and the loud typing of the receptionist’s outdated computers.

The woman behind the counter looks up briefly, carelessly pointing to the waiting area beside the desk rather than speaking to you. Her typing continues, as if no concern for what you might be here for is left, especially after a long shift in this busy chaos.

You look over at the waiting area—depressing and packed with patients who have been triaged and are awaiting further care, and filling the rest of the seats, distraught and impatient family members waiting for results on their loved ones. Some are praying, some sobbing, others clutching minor injuries, but most stare blankly as they tap their feet against the beige tile.

“Actually, I’m here for my mother. She passed.” You tell the bored receptionist, practically forcing her to pay attention to your dead expression.

The once unsympathetic stare she had, now turned the opposite. But once again, without words, she pointed to the elevators in the direction of the ICU. Her pity only lasted seconds, before she raised one of the phones to her ear, full attention on the other line.

You looked back at König for reassurance, who merely kept walking with you, eyes straight ahead with uncertainty.

As the elevator doors close, a sense of tension fills the confined space.

The panel of buttons displays various floors, but the one that stands out is the one labeled "ICU" in bold, red letters.

Inside the elevator, there's a mixture of people, each carrying their own burden of worry and concern. Family members clutch tightly to their belongings, their faces etched with anxiety and sorrow. The atmosphere is heavy with anticipation, despite the icy chill of the ventilation causing goosebumps on your skin.

A few forced smiles are exchanged among the passengers, trying to find comfort in each other's company, but the worry in their eyes betrays their attempts at reassurance, though you keep a straight face, already privy to what lies ahead of the doors.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the elevator slows down, and the doors open to reveal the ICU floor. It’s a morbid contrast to the emergency room; eerie quiet. Nurses and doctors roam, small groups of family members visit, and most of all, patients without any visitors hooked up to the machines.

König’s steps mirrored the pace of yours as you walked down the aisle of rooms, reading each chart until you found the one belonging to her.

You stopped in front of it, seeing her in the bed through the glass window overlooking the room. Your eyes, which had just gone dry, began to tear up again. It was a different feeling, seeing it in person, rather than imagining it over the phone.

“Let’s go inside, alright?” His voice is low and respectful as he takes a step around you, sliding open the pocket door, allowing you to go inside first when you are ready.

The door wooshes shut behind you as you approach the bed. Her chest is rising and falling with each hiss of the ventilator, but there are no signs of life anywhere else. Her hands are cold and lifeless, as is her skin—now drained of any memories and creases of age.

When the nurse steps inside and begins explaining the process to you, you only nod in response, keeping your eyes on the loved one in front of you. It would be your decision, to unhook her and say a final goodbye, or keep her like this, nothing but a corpse breathing through a machine.

“I’ll be here, whatever you decide.” König places a hand on your shoulder, ushering you to the chair beside the bed, while he remains standing in the corner, attempting to keep a respectful amount of distance. He didn’t know her, and now this would be all he knew of your mother—this harrowing image of her, with you beside her.

The silence passed by, hour by hour you spent listening to the beeps of the machines, the wheeze of her departed lungs mechanically filling with air. The warm hand you placed on hers, met with no returning caress, only her stillness.

König would make small efforts, a cup of coffee from the cafeteria, or small comforts in your ear, but they were futile against the waves of grief engulfing you. They were recognized, but not reciprocated with thank you’s or smiles—only silence.

—

The night you said goodbye, he left the room out of respect. He spent about an hour in that busy waiting room, hands folded in his lap as he waited for your return. It was best if he left you to the details, only there in terms of comfort.

He looked up curiously each time the elevator dinged and visitors piled out, until eventually it was you coming out to meet him. Swollen, reddened eyes, and a stack of funeral pamphlets still clutched in your fist.

The moment the ventilator let out its final hiss, the moment they unhooked the tubes, the moment you removed your hands from her—all a constant replay in your mind. He was to his feet instantly, pulling you into an embrace similar to the one in the living room, letting you know he would be there every step of the way.

König remained silent until you both reached his car again, opening the car door for you as he waited for you to climb inside.

You turned to face him, staring up into his sympathetic gaze, “thank you. I don’t know what else to say, except thank you.”

His blue eyes softened, as if shocked by your gratitude. He thought it was a given, being there for you, driving you to the hospital, even just showing you kindness, but it was clear you hadn’t expected that from him.

“You don’t need to thank me.” He mutters softly, his large hand resting on your arm, giving it a light squeeze. He hunches over and places his head on your shoulder, rubbing circles up and down your back.

“I’m always here, hm? Whatever you need to get through this.”

[better-blu-pilot]

Greetings Jessie... [Engel is standing completely still in the doorway with a small grin. One that would usually be sweet if not for the strange glint in his eyes] A sweet little birdie gave me some interesting news.

@blu-nurse-needs-sleep

-Jessie jumps slightly and looks over at Engel-

Uh… that so? What’d they tell ya..?

[thedenofravenpuff]

A Trick from the Trick Or Treat event on discord server. Engel stole the outfit of @alexandraisyes' OC Dolus, cuz she wears it better (if you ask her).

And off she goes on her wheels to show off her new fit.

Enjoy!

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[skybrushus]

Nurse Sombra walked up with a clipboard in his hand. He looked down and stared at the paperwork on it for a moment before speaking in a deep, rich, baritone voice.

     "I have the test results. And apparently many ponies of both genders think...." He flipped to another sheet of paper on the clipboard before continuing.

      "That I am hot."

     Another of the drawings I started during my most recent Picarto stream. The theme that evening was nurses. And you can have male and female nurses.

[blu-nurse-needs-sleep]

Engel, your thoughts on Micheal and BLU Jessie? :3

I ain't making a single comment on the two of 'em. I made one and ya'll took it and ran with it. I said Micheal might fit Jessie's type and a crush was maybe possible, and you all began shoving it at them like it was a fact. Do not bring me into this any more.

[chef-from-blu]

[Engel was leaning in the doorway to Ivan's kitchen, not in it, but not exactly out of it either. He was wearing a more casual outfit, only in loose shorts and an oversized light blue turtleneck that had Pyro's symbol on it. He waited for Ivan to notice him before speaking] Vati, you a vampire? Don't bother lying cus I'll know.

~ @blu-nurse-needs-sleep

The chef was leaned against the counter, drinking a mug of his signature 'cranberry juice' and reading a chefs magazine. Noticing Engel, he glanced up and began to drink from his mug before suddenly spitting out the contents once the nurse spoke.

Wiping blood from his chin, he cleared his throat and tried to compose himself.

"Vhat-- grrm-- Engel-- I can explain I-... Okay I--"

He set his magazine down and looked around at the mess he made. With a sigh he grabbed a towel and began to wipe the fluid up.

"Vhat a vaste... Sorry Engel, I vasn't expecting you to open vith zat. Zhough I suppose it vas a matter of time before someone ozher zhen zhe Medic found out. Makes sense it vas you."

[txttletale]

does it sound insane that i work in a sort of adjacently evil form of occupation under capitalism - i mean like finance or accounting, not like engineer at the murder factory - and i still would rather a world without these functions

what exactly is going to happen in communism to people who worked in jobs that largely existed only in capitalism - are we all going to get thrown into a pit

this is meant in good faith, i wanted to work in a job that helped people - was previously a nurse, but autism made it difficulty to continue so i dropped out - and i don't know if i can deal with my career just being a cog in the machine of capitalism.

i don't think it's insane to be have revolutionary beliefes despite them not being in your own class interest--marxist class analysis is just that, analysis of classes as a whole, not individuals. engels was famously a capitalist himself.

one of the main liberatory projects of marxism is to put an end to the vast number of professions and jobs and markets that exists only to enrich capitalists--and of course this doesn't mean dispensing with or harming the people currently doing these professions. it means freeing these people from having to sell hours of their lives to capitalists in order to survive--allowing people to instead work towards the betterment of themselves and their communities

you're not insane! you are not an enemy of any communist so long as you also want an end to the capitalist system and you are not actively one of its enforcers.

In a higher phase of communist society, after the enslaving subordination of the individual to the division of labor, and with it also the antithesis between mental and physical labor, has vanished, after labor has become not only a livelihood but life's prime want, after the productive forces have increased with the all-round development of the individual, and all the springs of co-operative wealth flow more abundantly--only then can the narrow horizon of bourgeois law be left behind in its entirety and society inscribe on its banners: From each according to his ability, to each according to his needs!"

— Karl Marx, Critique of the Gotha Program

[the-silly-pyromaniac]

[There's a gentle knock on Pyro's door before Engel opens it. Engel is wearing another one of Pyro's shirts that he must've stolen a different time as the one he was wearing was a loose long sleeve shirt. He wasn't wearing anything else to be comfy. Engel was holding something close to his chest. A small stuffed husky toy] Pyro..? Are we still on for our date..?

@blu-nurse-needs-sleep

-Pyro excitedly gets up and nods, they’re wearing a light blue sweater with matching pajama pants, and of course their mask. They grab a pink stuffed unicorn from their bed and lightly boop it’s nose on Engel’s stuffed husky and giggles-

Yes! I picked a bunch of different movies, they’re all different genres so we have a bunch of options! Do you have a favorite?